


In His Majesty's Service

by Anonymous



Category: The Physician (2013)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Canon Divergence, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Ibn Sina Lives AU, M/M, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rob Cole Whump, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, but the comfort doesn't come in for a hot minute lol, there's a lot of hurt first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26958730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The shah made Rob very uncomfortable.  What did the ruler of Isfahan want with him?  Out of all of Rob's worst nightmares, the answer was far more horrific.The shah takes Rob as his slave, and there seems to be nothing Ibn Sina and Mirdin can do to free him.
Relationships: Rob Cole & Ibn Sina, Rob Cole & Mirdin, Shah Alah ad-Daula/Rob Cole
Comments: 22
Kudos: 19
Collections: anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SomeRainMustFall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeRainMustFall/gifts).



> READ THE TAGS
> 
> This was originally only gonna be a one shot, but it just kept getting longer and longer and longer, so now it's gonna be a few chapters, probably around four. Also I promise there will be comfort. There's gonna be so much comfort you're not even gonna know what to do. But alas, this chapter has zero comfort whatsoever. Enjoy the whump.

The shah kept staring at him, his gaze both curious and penetrating. It made Rob much more uncomfortable than he cared to admit. He remained silent as the shah asked him about women, too fearful to involve Rebecca with the shah in any way. Something was going on, and Rob simply couldn't trust the man. He continued to sit awkwardly as the women fawned over him and the shah stared. Rob wanted to leave, to drown his sorrows over Karim's death and Rebecca's unattainability in his studies, but no one left the shah's presence without his say so.

That meant that when the shah asked him to join him back at the palace, Rob had no choice but to say yes, no matter how much he didn't want to. That meant that he accepted the glass of wine that the shah offered him, that he didn't object when the shah slowly sent the servants and guards out of the throne room, no matter how much the pit in his stomach grew, warning him that something was very wrong.

"Give my friend and I some privacy," the shah said to the last guard left in the room. The man obediently nodded, leaving only the shah and Rob in the throne room.

"I really must be returning," Rob said softly, hoping to implore the shah with thoughts of his studies and the family he was paying back for their hospitality. The shah let out a low chuckle, one that sent shivers down Rob's spine.

"I don't think you'll be returning any time soon, Jesse," he said, taking another step towards him, one that somehow seemed threatening. Rob couldn't help his reflexive step back, but immediately bowed his head in submission when the shah glared. His heart was pounding in his ribcage, every sense he had telling him that he needed to run, yet he remained still, save for the faint tremors running through his body in apprehension. "In fact, I think I'll keep you here as long as I see fit. Get on your knees."

Trying to keep himself from shaking, Rob lowered himself all the way down to a prostrate position, bowing to the shah. That had to be what the shah wanted.

"I said your knees, hakim," the shah said, his voice tight with annoyance. It was only when Rob lifted himself up onto his knees, just under eye level with the man's waist, that Rob began to understand why the shah had made everyone leave, why he had been looking at him with hungry eyes all day, and perhaps even why the shah had sought him out in the first place. The shah began to pull away his robes, and Rob knew he was right. His eyes widened and he began to lean back and away from the shah, but the ruler shot out his hand and gripped Rob's hair in a painful hold, pulling him back towards the shah's body. "I see by now you have realized what you are here for," the shah said, keeping his firm grip in Rob's hair as he tossed his yarmulke to the ground. "It would be best for you if you do not struggle. I am the shah. Your body is now my property, to do with as I see fit, and I see fit to make you mine. This is all you will get to prepare yourself, but if you would prefer, we can skip to the main course, but I assure you, Jesse, it will be less painful if you simply accept this."

"Please, oh Sublime One, I beg of you not to do this," Rob pleaded, his voice shaking in fear. He fought against his natural instinct to fight against the hand still painfully gripping his curls, keeping his head in place, knowing that to do so could mean his death. But perhaps death was better than what the shah was about to force him to do. The shah finished pulling his robes away from his groin, revealing far more than Rob had ever expected he would see of the ruler. "Please let me go, Son of the State, I beg of you," he pleaded again, looking down and away as his eyes began to burn - the telltale sign of oncoming tears.

"You are my property now, Jesse, and I will not be releasing you from my service until I tire of you or have need to have your corpse disposed," the shah replied, his voice cold and emotionless. He moved to grip Rob's hair with both hands, forcing him back up towards his erect member. Rob squeezed his eyes shut. It couldn't be happening. It all had to be a horrific dream, brought on by the stress of the plague. "This is a gift, boy, for your benefit. Or do you refuse to accept that which the shah provides for his loyal subject? If you refuse your gift, then we will simply move on. Would you like to move on, Englishman?"

"No, please, no-."

"Then open your mouth and accept my mercy," the shah interrupted. He tightened his grip in Rob's hair, the unspoken threat clear.

With a whimper, Rob opened his mouth. He didn't have any other choice. The shah pushed himself into his mouth, immediately pulling Rob flush against his groin, pushing himself into Rob's throat and holding him there. Rob gagged and began to thrash against the shah, his body's immediate need for air overriding his fears of being killed for his blatant disobedience. He pushed against the shah's thighs and pulled at the hands in his hair, but to no avail. Finally, the shah pulled back enough for him to breathe - laughing as he did so - then slammed back in with a rapid pace. Rob could barely get a single breath in, gagging much more than he was breathing. He could feel tears streaming down his face.

After a few minutes of the torture, the shah pulled away, tossing Rob to the floor like a piece of rubbish. Rob laid there, taking in gasping breaths of air. He held himself up by his palms, but his arms were shaking. When he looked back at the shah, the man had removed his outer robes, leaving only a single, plain robe that he left hanging open, revealing his torso, groin, and legs. Rob let out a sob. A traitorous glance towards the door left him with the shah's foot on his back, pushing him to the ground.

"You've had your preparation. Now it is time for you to service me, hakim," the shah said as he grabbed Rob and pulled him up. He was dragged to one of the many opulent couches the throne room was lined with, one that Rob remembered seeing scantily clad women adorning on his first visit to the palace. The shah threw him down onto the couch and began tearing his robes off.

"Please, please, Your Majesty, I beg you to let me go. I don't want this," Rob cried out, his heart beating out of his chest in fear. Despite every horrible thing he'd lived through, Rob had never been more scared in his entire life. The shah lightly pressed his arm down onto the front of Rob's throat - not enough to hurt him, but enough that Rob stopped struggling, even as the shah continue to tear away his clothes. He couldn't help but meet the shah's gaze as those dark eyes full of rage stared down at him.

"You misunderstand your purpose," the shah said, his voice thick with barely controlled rage. "You, Jesse ben Benjamin, now only exist as vessel through which I can get what I want. You are mine now. What you want will never matter again. Do you understand your shah?" After a moment of Rob's silence, the shah pressed down harder on his throat, obstructing his breathing. With tears in his eyes, Rob nodded. The shredded remains of his clothes were tossed to the floor. The shah flipped him over onto his stomach, and Rob panicked. He couldn't just let this happen, no matter what would become of him if he tried.

"No, no, please," he begged as he began to hyperventilate. Rob tried to lash out against the shah, but the larger man had a firm grip on his arms and was able to hold him down. What followed was the greatest pain that Rob had ever felt. His scream of pain and terror as the shah pushed in all the way in one go broke off into a sob as the shah began to moan obscenely in his ear. Rob reflexively fought against the man to get away from the source of the agony, but that seemed to only spur the shah on more.

"Oh, Jesse," he moaned as he began to pull back, the pain lessening by only fraction before he slammed back in again. Rob screamed again as he tried to fight back, but there was only so much he could do against someone who was on top of him, who was taking pleasure in his resistance. The shah kept going, holding him down with bruising grips and slamming into him again and again and again. The pain was draining, quickly taking all of Rob's strength. The shah had been moaning as he fought, but he moaned even more when Rob finally stopped, letting his body fall limp. There was nothing he could do to stop what was happening. "Yes, Englishman," the shah moaned as Rob continued to sob, his throat wrecked from screaming. "Accept your place. This is all you are." The tears kept coming.

The only relief came from Rob's own blood. It flowed down Rob's thighs and was surely coating the shah's groin, but the man didn't seem to mind. Rob almost threw up when he felt a sudden increase in blood, knowing that it wasn't actually blood at all when it was paired with that gasping moan from the shah.

"You are my property, Jesse," the man said, his voice low and thick. "I suggest you make peace with your new station, because you are never leaving this palace again." The shah finally pulled out and step away. Rob immediately curled into a fetal position. Hugging himself was the only comfort he could get. But he couldn't have that either. The shah grabbed his hair, once again, forcing Rob to look at him. Rob only whimpered. "Your blue eyes and pale skin have always been exotic here, but those pretty eyes look even better now that they're filled with tears." Rob squeezed his eyes shut and tried to turn away. With a chuckle that made Rob shudder, the shah dropped his hand and stepped away. Rob had only a moment to collect himself before the shah was once again grabbing his arm and pulling him upright. "You may wear your old robes while I have something more suitable made for you to wear in the presence of others," the shah said, tossing Rob his torn clothes.

Despite the pain the movement caused, Rob immediately pulled the destroyed tunic on. He would have to hold it around himself, but it was better than nothing.

"You should not become used to it," the shah continued, his voice dark. "You will not be keeping them long."

The entire night was spent in pain, from being marched through the palace, all the way to the shah's quarters, where the shah immediately tore his clothes off again and put him through another horrific round of torture. He didn't allow Rob to dress again.

The top bedsheet was stained with Rob's blood and other bodily fluids. The shah merely tossed it aside.

"This is not a concern to me, and neither are you," he said. "Your body will become so accustomed to mine that it will eventually stop bleeding, and will start accepting me eagerly. You will soon accept this, and start trying to please me rather than forcing me to simply take what I want." The shah spoke as casually and plainly as he always did, even as Rob laid on his side, curled in on himself, and cried. "The evening meal will be brought to me. I expect you to eat it," he said, his voice tinged with a darkness that said exactly what would happen to Rob if he didn't - then again, wasn't that going to happen again anyway?

Still, despite the way his stomach churned at the thought of eating, Rob supposed it would be easier if he just tried to eat something. As a hakim, he knew that food was necessary as part of the healing process. He needed to stay as strong as possible, and he needed food to do that.

Rob tried to keep his hands from shaking as he ate some of the fruit that the shah expected him to eat. He wasn't very successful, but the shah didn't remark on it.

That was the only mercy Rob was provided that night.

The shah took him again once he finished his meal. Every time Rob thought it couldn't be any more painful, the shah proved him wrong. Every time Rob thought he didn't have any tears left to cry, another sob would wrack his body. Every time Rob thought his throat was too damaged to scream anymore, the shah brought another one out of him. It was the worst hell that Rob could imagine. Out of everything his fate could've been in Isfahan, how could it have been to become the slave of the shah?

Finally, the shah pulled out and moved off the bed. Rob could just make out the soft sound of his bare feet padding across the carpeted floor over his own tears. A distant part of him wanted to run, but he knew he couldn't. The pain was too great to run, even if Rob could make it past guards, naked.

The shah grabbed onto his wrists, making Rob flinch as the man pulled him over to the bed post. Rob didn't struggle as his wrists were tied to it, not tightly enough to hurt, but tight enough that he wouldn't be able to get free. He kept his head low, turned away from the shah.

"Just for insurance," the shah said. "Until I have you properly trained." Rob let his head rest on his arms as the shah walked away, into his washroom. A quick test of his bonds proved that even if Rob did have the strength to run, he wouldn't be able to.

Rob let out a keening wail as he realized he was well and truly trapped. He wasn't getting back to the madrasa. He wasn't getting back to Mirdin and his incredible family or Ibn Sina. He was certainly never going to see Rebecca again. Would she even accept him, after what had been done to him? Rob was being made into the shah's personal whore. What woman would ever want to be with a man who had been forced into such an unnatural position? Of course, that was all beside the fact that Rebecca was already married to someone else, and Rob could never truly be with her. Maybe that was what this was all about. Maybe he was being punished for his sins. Maybe he deserved all of this.

"Oh, Lord Jesus, forgive me," he wept. "I have doubted You, and I have denied You, I have lain with a woman who is not my wife, and I have desecrated a corpse in the name of science. I beg your forgiveness, Lord. Please do not leave me to the shah's perversions. Don't leave me here, Lord Jesus, please," he prayed around his sobs.

Rob didn't know how long he laid there, praying and crying and absolutely terrified. He'd never been so scared. The shah eventually returned, but there was nothing Rob could do to protect himself. There was nothing he could do to stop it when the shah took him again, and nothing he could do to loosen the bonds that the shah left around his wrists, securing him to the bed. He was exhausted, his body weak and his mind drained from the constant pain and fear.

"I must admit, Jesse," the shah said as he laid next to Rob's curled form in bed, appetite finally - hopefully - sated for the evening. Rob was facing away from him, and for the time being, the shah allowed it. "You surprise me. I do not care much for religion, but I see now that you have not been honest about your own." Rob's breath caught in his throat. The shah had heard him praying. He knew. "Allah, Yahweh, Jesus, I care not who you pray to, or even that you attempted to deceive me." The man grabbed Rob's shoulder and turned him onto his back, forcing Rob to look at him, his arms contorted awkwardly due to the bonds. The shah took a hold of Rob's throat as he leaned in closer, his eyes dark. "But none of them are here. I am the only one who can hear your cries. In this bed, I am your god. You worship at my altar, and you offer yourself up to me. Do I make myself clear?"

Rob just laid there as tears began to collect in his eyes once more. After a moment, the shah squeezed his throat, so Rob nodded to show his understanding. The shah smiled.

"Good," he said. He took his hand away from Rob's throat and began to gently caress Rob's hair. Rob couldn't help but flinch. "And because I take such good care of my worshippers, I won't let them kill you for your deceit. What do you say to that?" The shah glared at him as he remained silent, the unspoken threat clear.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Rob croaked out, his abused throat protesting the attempt at speaking.

"And I can only assume then that Christian such as yourself would not carry the Jewish name of Jesse," the shah mentioned, clearly asking for Rob's real name.

"It's Rob Cole," he said, unable to fight it as another tear slipped out and down to his hairline.

The shah let out a low chuckle. "I find your dedication quite amusing, Rob Cole," he said. "A fake name, a valiant effort at proving a faith you do not share, even a mediocre attempt at a circumcision. You are so very different from the rest. The most unique flower that I must possess." He laughed again, then finally turned away, leaving Rob to his bonds, tears, and pending prayers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm guessing there will be two more chapters after this, but alas, I am terrible at guessing. Still no comfort yet, but that will be coming in spades later.

It had been far too long since the guards had come to take Jesse to the shah. For the first few hours, Mirdin had tried not to worry, but as the hours dragged on, and the day turned into night, he couldn't help but be concerned. The shah had a strange interest in Jesse that put Mirdin on edge. Something wasn't right about it, but he couldn't say exactly what. When the night turned into morning, and Jesse was still gone, Mirdin knew something was wrong. His whole family could tell that something wasn't right, but they refrained from mentioning it - although their concerned glances towards the empty seat at the dining table that Jesse had come to occupy said plenty. Mirdin could only hope that Jesse had returned and gone straight to the madrasa. His friend often spent long hours there, and had even stayed the night studying a few times since the plague.

His heart sank when he arrived at the madrasa to find that Jesse wasn't there. Could he still have been with the shah? That would've been almost a full twenty-four hours. Something was very wrong. He needed to talk to Ibn Sina. He would know what to do.

Mirdin spotted the teacher looking over a scroll before class was scheduled to begin. He rushed over to him.

"Ibn Sina," he quickly greeted, but waited for his teacher to address him before continuing.

"Yes, Mirdin," Ibn Sina replied, setting the scroll down. "Is something the matter? You do not look well." His gaze briefly roamed over Mirdin, likely checking for any injury or obvious source of pain.

"Yes, I think so." Mirdin glanced around to make sure that no one else was in earshot before continuing. "Yesterday, the shah's guards came to my home, and they took Jesse with them, saying that the shah had requested his presence on a lion hunt. But Jesse never returned, and he's not here." He took another breath, his nerves building once again. "I think something's wrong."

Ibn Sina nodded, and stood up from his desk. "Let's go see the shah, then, shall we?" he said.

"What about your classes?" Mirdin asked, although he was already falling into step beside his teacher.

"There are many associates who can teach them for today," Ibn Sina easily replied. "I believe finding out what has befallen young Jesse is more important than a few classes on the philosophies of the healing arts, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Mirdin said. He was scared for his friend. Any number of things could have happened, and Mirdin couldn't imagine that any of them could be good. None of it was fair. Jesse didn't need any more hardship. The poor boy had traveled from the other end of the world to learn how to help people, and he'd been met with such hostility from others, the death of his friend, and all of the challenges that came with being in love with a married woman. Mirdin felt for Jesse, he truly did, but he was fairly certain that Jesse and Rebecca had fallen into their temptation. He wouldn't mention it, both out of fear for Jesse and Rebecca's safety and Jesse's own privacy. Sin or no sin, that was between Jesse and God unless anything else came of it.

Mirdin followed Ibn Sina out of the madrasa, and down the streets to the palace. All it took for Ibn Sina and Mirdin to be granted access was the announcement of who Ibn Sina was, and the declaration that Mirdin was with him. Ibn Sina was well respected throughout Isfahan, and could very nearly get into anywhere he pleased.

As they walked through the palace, getting closer and closer to the throne room, Mirdin felt a pillar of dread settle in his stomach. What were they walking into? What if something was very wrong with Jesse when they found him? Mirdin's fear for his friend riddled him with nerves, calmed only by the knowledge that he likely wouldn't have to speak. Ibn Sina would do the talking, being the only one between them of any sort of status of importance. Having been in the presence of the shah before, Mirdin knew the rules, so Ibn Sina didn't need to remind him again.

The doors to the throne room opened in front of them, just as opulently decorated as it had been the night of celebration. The throne itself and the shah sitting atop it were, as always, the focal point. But there was a small figure kneeling on the floor, just to the side of the throne, that also caught Mirdin's attention. He and Ibn Sina kept walking towards the throne, until Mirdin's steps faltered upon his realization of who the figure was. Jesse was sitting there, and he did not look well.

Mirdin stumbled to catch up with Ibn Sina, whose intake of breath was the only indicator that he was at all disturbed by the evolving situation. But when Mirdin glanced up at the man, he could see the tightness of his jaw and the heartbreak in his eyes. He turned back to Jesse, whose head was hung in shame.

The boy was scantily glad, wearing only thin clothes in the same style of the dancing girls, merely hanging off his thin waist. His chest, legs, and arms were bare, save for the golden shackles around Jesse's wrists. The shackles were adorned with gems and shone brilliantly, but they were restraints nonetheless, designed to keep Jesse from fighting back. Around his neck was a golden collar, even more brilliantly adorned than the shackles. The chain connected to it lead up to the shah, who held it in his grasp. The shah had taken Jesse as a slave - and not just any slave, but one kept for a single purpose. It was all Mirdin could do to stay silent, knowing what horrible things the shah had already done to his friend. Jesse lifted his head for a brief moment. Tears were shining in his eyes.

"Ibn Sina," the shah greeted with a nod and the smile of a man who knew he was in control. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I've come to retrieve my student, Your Majesty," Ibn Sina replied, his voice as steady as ever. The shah let out a bark of laughter, to which Jesse flinched heavily.

"The boy is no longer your concern," the shah dismissed with a wave of his hand. "He is mine now, and mine he will stay for the rest of his days. You may leave, now."

"I beg your pardon, Oh Sublime One, but Jesse is very much my concern," Ibn Sina replied. The shah merely stared at him, betraying no emotion. "He is my student, and I care for him a great deal. The world will be losing perhaps the greatest hakim of our time if Jesse is not allowed to return to the madrasa, Son of the State."

"You seek to deprive the shah of his property?" the shah accused. He tightened his grip on Jesse's chain and pulled, forcing Jesse to lift his head and look at them. Jesse closed his eyes as the first tear slipped out. He was shaking. Faint tremors were wracking through his body, causing the shackles to rattle just loud enough to hear. The boy was terrified.

"I seek to put this boy's extraordinary talents to use in the field of medicine, where he will continue to save countless lives," Ibn Sina replied. If anyone else had been so openly defiant with the shah, they would have been killed by that point. That was why it was Ibn Sina who spoke, and not Mirdin. "I'm sure there are any number of men in Isfahan who would be more than willing to take Jesse's place and live their lives in the palace." That was certainly true. There were plenty of prostitutes throughout the city, many of them men, who would jump at the chance to give up their life on the streets for the palace. It certainly didn't have to be Jesse, an unwilling participant.

"You misunderstand me, Ibn Sina," the shah said. Their only solace was that the ruler still sounded more amused than anything else. "It is this boy that I want, not any man off the street willing to do the job. This is the boy that I saw and decided to make mine. If you can find me another Englishman, with curls and blue eyes, then maybe we can find some sort of arrangement," he said with a chuckle, then waved his hand. "Besides, it is the boy's struggle against me that makes my conquest of him all the sweeter." He yanked on the chain again, pulling Jesse so that he was leaning against the shah's leg. He reached down and began to run his fingers through Jesse's hair, taking pleasure in the way that the boy flinched and whimpered.

Mirdin bit his own lip to keep himself from crying out against the ruler. Jesse looked so small and scared, so absolutely terrified. The boy was silent, but his eyes were screaming at Mirdin to save him, to get him out of there. But there was nothing Mirdin could do. He didn't even know if there was anything that Ibn Sina could do.

"It is not as if there is nothing that this boy receives in return for his excellent service to me," the shah continued. "He will have a roof over his head every night, and more food and drink than he could ever want or need. And, obviously, he will always have a warm bed." Another tear slipped down Jesse's face. The shah chuckled, and the dark sound sent shivers down Mirdin's spine. The man pulled the chain up high, pulling Jesse up with a gasp. Jesse scrambled up to get enough slack on his leash to be able to breathe, finding that the only way to get it was to essentially sit in the shah's lap.

"Your Majesty-."

"And in time," the shah continued, interrupting what surely would have been a protest from Ibn Sina. "Once the boy accepts his place, he may find that I can please him too." With a devilish smile on his face, the shah reached down under the thin fabrics that hung off Jesse's waist. The boy immediately squirmed and shook his head.

"Please, don't," he muttered in a broken whisper, just loud enough for Mirdin to hear him. His voice was destroyed, beyond hoarse, and his hands were shaking as another few tears fell. Mirdin couldn't just stand there and let it happen.

As pure rage grew in his mind, Mirdin took a single step forward, but Ibn Sina's arm shot out across his chest, stopping him where he was. He quickly turned to glare at his teacher for stopping him, but saw so much heartbreak in the man's eyes that his own face fell, his rage quickly turning to helplessness.

"You are wise to stop your student," the shah said through clenched teeth. His hands were no longer molesting Jesse, for which Mirdin was thankful. Jesse was still sitting between the man's legs, crying silently as he shifted uncomfortably. "If he does not remember his station, I may be forced to take him as well." Mirdin stared back at his ruler with as much hatred as he could muster, and still, the shah only smiled.

"I beg you, Oh Protector of the People, to release Jesse from your service," Ibn Sina pled. "He is only a boy." The shah continued to smile as he ran his fingers lightly across Jesse's skin, uncaring of the way he flinched and shook with fear.

"It is percisely for that reason that he must remain with me," he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I am the first man to ever have this boy, and I will be the only man. His purity is mine." His hand traveled up Jesse's chest, over the collar and onto Jesse's neck, forcing his head up and gripping his throat. The shah turned his head to face Jesse, so close that his nose was buried in Jesse's curls. It was a move that spoke only of possession and ownership. Jesse's eyes were squeezed shut as he trembled. Mirdin bristled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as if he could actually do something about the situation.

"What must I do to have my student returned to me?" Ibn Sina asked, his tone almost pleading - that wasn't how Ibn Sina was supposed to sound, he was always supposed to be a pillar of strength and security, not scared and helpless. "There must be something that will make you free the boy."

The shah chuckled once again. "Why would you even want a liar?" he asked, finally dropping his hand from Jesse's throat. Something broke in Jesse's eyes at the shah's words. He glanced between Mirdin and Ibn Sina, then hung his head in shame. "The boy you call Jesse has been deceiving you." He turned to face Jesse once again. "Why don't you tell them who you really are, my pet?" Jesse shook his head, looking as if he wanted to curl in on himself and disappear. "Tell them," the shah growled, yanking on the chain to force Jesse's head up.

Jesse looked between them as more tears slipped down his face. "I'm not Jewish," he said, his hoarse voice breaking. Confused, Mirdin felt himself holding his breath. "My name is not Jesse ben Benjamin, either. I am Rob Cole, and I am a Christian. I lied, in order to get into the madrasa. I'm so sorry," he sobbed, then dropped his head again.

Honestly, Mirdin couldn't say he was shocked. It made sense. Jesse - well, Rob - had always seemed a little off when it came to Jewish practices, making up reasons as to why things were different in England. Since he was from a different culture, Mirdin had never pressed it, figuring that the culture difference was a good enough excuse, even if it didn't always quite match up with the Torah. Still, knowing that Rob had been making it all up as he went along made his blunders and idiosyncrasies when it came to all things Jewish make a lot more sense. Of course, a part of Mirdin was hurt by the deception, but it was only a very small part. Had the situation been different, and he had found out when Rob wasn't being forced into slavery, then Mirdin probably would've been much more hurt. But liar or not, Rob was his closest friend, his little brother, and Mirdin loved him. They had much bigger issues than Rob not trusting him enough to tell him the truth and to keep his secret - because Mirdin would've kept it, he would've protected Rob no matter who he prayed to - and it was the bigger issues that required Mirdin's attention.

"Jesse ben Benjamin, or Rob Cole, it makes no difference to me," Ibn Sina said, his voice as steady as it always was when he was explaining something to one of his students. "He is my student, and we care for him very deeply at the madrasa. Whatever price you will ask of me, Your Majesty, I will pay it to have him freed."

"There is nothing you could give me that would make me give up my most prized possession," the shah said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You may leave now." Mirdin took another step forward, but was once again stopped by Ibn Sina, though his teacher wasn't making a move to leave either.

"I beg you-."

"If you do not leave, you will not be the one begging," the shah interrupted, his gaze going dark. "I will have my way with the boy right here, in front of you, and force you to watch. Would you do him that injustice? Or will you at least do him the dignity of allowing him to perform his duties in private?" he said, as if any of it had to do with Ibn Sina and Mirdin at all.

"Please, go, just- just go," Rob sobbed as he shook in fear. His chains rattled, and neither he nor the shah made any move to stop them. "I don't want- just go."

Mirdin fought to keep his own eyes from filling with tears as he locked eyes with Rob. The boy's eyes were pleading with him not to leave, to stay, to save him, but he couldn't. There wasn't anything Mirdin could do to save his friend.

"You heard him," the shah said with a shrug. "Now leave, before I change my mind." Mirdin kept his eyes locked with Rob's, trying to convey everything he couldn't say. He wasn't going to leave him there. He didn't know how, but he was going to save him, one way or another. He would not abandon his friend to such a terrible fate.

Mirdin's first tear fell as Ibn Sina forced him to turn around. He could hear the shah laughing and Rob crying, and Mirdin could only put one foot in front of the other and allow Ibn Sina to lead him back out of the palace, his hand on Mirdin's back.

"What do we do?" he asked his teacher, his voice breaking, the moment they stepped outside the palace walls. "We cannot leave him there. We cannot leave him to that monster." There were the mullahs who wanted the shah gone. Maybe they could somehow use that to their advantage. Mirdin would do anything to get Rob back.

"I know, Mirdin," Ibn Sina replied, his own voice strained, as if he were holding back tears himself. "I know not what we will do, but we will think of something." Despite the strain in his voice, there was a confidence. Ibn Sina was certain that they would save him. He was the most intelligent man that Mirdin had ever met. If he knew that they could save Rob, then Mirdin would believe him.

Somehow, someway, they were going to save their friend.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay. Life is crazy. Now that it's November, NaNoWriMo has to be my first priority, but I promise I will try to keep this up as well. I'm guessing only 2-3 chapters more, but then again, I'm really bad at guessing. Enjoy!

Rob had been in a daze all morning. As per what had become his new normal, Rob had been woken from fitful sleep - filled with nightmares that were no worse than his new life - by the shah demanding his body. There wasn't anything that Rob could do to refuse. He still tried to fight back, but not as much. He couldn't stop his instincts to fight and get away, but he was so weak that perhaps it was easier to just let it happen. Perhaps it would be better to just let his mind become a void, barely even aware of what was being done to him.

But he could not deny the initial impulse to fight back and try to push the larger man off him. Only this time, when Rob pushed against the man's chest, time stood still for a moment. The veil was pulled back, and Rob saw death. Death was coming for the shah.

Rob froze after that. What was he supposed to do? If he told the shah that death was coming, the ruler wouldn't believe him. If he let the shah die, without doing anything to stop it, would Rob be blamed for it? Did it even matter? Death was far preferable to continuing to live in such hell. If suicide weren't a mortal sin, then Rob would've ended his own life the moment he knew he could never escape. Rob wasn't afraid of death. There was still so much he had wanted to do with his life, to help people back in England, to see the barber again, to find a way to spend the rest of his life with Rebecca, but none of that was going to happen. He was going to spend the rest of his life as a slave. If there was no escape, then Rob would greet death, even execution, with open arms. Eternity in the Kingdom of God was far better than any life on Earth, free or slave.

The shah clearly knew that something was wrong with himself. His groans were clearly more from pain than pleasure, and the way he pulled at Rob's hair and pushed him around seemed more from frustration than his usual sadism. It still hurt, but it was different. The shah was different. He was in pain, and desperately trying to act like he wasn't. Rob knew better than to ask the ruler what was wrong. As a slave, he didn't have the right to ask that, or even say anything at all unless he was spoken to first. Even with Rob's medical curiosity as an excuse, he couldn't ask. No one was allowed to ask after the shah's health unless the shah brought it up himself.

It left Rob mulling over what it could be. All morning, he sat blankly, relishing the feeling of being absent to what was done to his body and the people who saw him. All morning, he sat in a daze, going over everything he knew about the shah and medicine, trying to figure out what was wrong with him, and why he was going to die. There were no obvious answers. As a hakim, of course Rob wanted to know what the shah was afflicted with, but as a slave, Rob was just glad that the man was going to face his end - although as a Christian, Rob felt just a little bit of guilt at his joy in the man's inevitable demise.

Lost in his thoughts, Rob had been able to ignore everyone who looked at him coming in and out of the throne room. It wasn't as if any of them recognized him, so he had no pride or station to protect. It wasn't strange to them to see a scantily clad young man in chains next to the shah. Most of them barely gave him a second glance, knowing that it was dangerous to stare too long at the property of the shah. The shah even left him alone, for the most part. It wasn't like it had been with Ibn Sina and Mirdin. There was no reason to humiliate him or prove a point, which was certainly a large part of it, but even beyond that, Rob could tell that the shah was in pain, and still trying desperately to pretend otherwise.

However, Rob could not ignore the mullahs when they burst through the doors with much more force than was strictly necessary, led by none other than Davout. Rob could feel his face flushing with shame. He ducked his head and closed his eyes. Maybe, by some miracle, Davout either wouldn't notice or wouldn't recognize him. He doubted he could be so lucky.

"What do you want?" the shah asked. He sounded more annoyed and short tempered than Rob had ever heard him. The group of mullahs - there were about six of them, but Rob wasn't going to lift his head to look until he knew for certain that Davout had already recognized him - bowed only the bare minimum in respect. Normally, the shah would've called them out on that. Was he in that much pain that he was willing to ignore their disrespect?

"We want your filthy pet," Davout sneered. So he did recognize Rob. "He must pay for his crimes." Rob lifted his head to look at them, and found that he didn't care nearly as much as he should have. They looked at him with clear derision and disgust, except for Davout, who, behind his sneer, looked at Rob much like the shah did, but with an added air of contempt.

Rob had a feeling that he knew exactly what they were talking about. He hadn't yet disposed of the body he was studying. Someone was bound to come across it. If anything, Rob was surprised that it hadn't happened sooner - which brought up the disturbing thought that Rob had only been there for two nights, even though the hell of his life as a slave felt like at least a week. Rob didn't want to think about how they possibly could've figured out where he was.

"And what, pray tell, is he supposed to have done?" the shah asked. He put his hand in Rob's hair, making him flinch. "As you can see, my pet has been quite busy as of late." He gave a low chuckle, making Rob flush with shame once again at the insinuation.

"Your Majesty, your new slave desecrated a corpse," Davout insisted, but the shah clearly didn't care.

"And?" he asked, his hand only stilling in Rob's hair for a brief moment before going back to his gentle ministrations. Rob knew he should be grateful for the care and tenderness that the shah showed him while it lasted, but he couldn't help but shiver as the ruler's long nails scraped his scalp.

"And that is a crime punishable by death," Davout said, his voice rising slightly before he remembered his station. "We've found his papers, detailing what he did. We found the body itself, the bloody instruments. We know it was him. His master, Ibn Sina, has already been arrested for the part he's played-."

"Ibn Sina had no part," Rob interrupted, uncaring towards his position. What worse could be done to him? The pull at the collar around his neck said that there was always something worse. Still, Rob continued unhindered. "Those actions were mine and mine alone."

"Hush," the shah seethed, pulling at his leash. Rob looked up at him, and made glaring eye contact. "You know better than to speak out of turn. You know what happens when you do." He yanked the chain again, pulling Rob closer to him. The shah gripped Rob's neck, not tightly enough to cut off his hair, but enough to make sure that Rob knew he could. But that wasn't enough. Rob also knew that the shah was going to die that day. The shah could only hurt him so much before that happened.

"Please," Davout continued. "Son of the State, just give us the boy so that he may face punishment for his crimes. Surely you know that even life as a bacha bazi is too good for him. The boy must die for what he's done!" Davout's fists were clenched with rage, and the rest of the mullahs were murmuring their agreement and nodding. "Even now he defies your authority."

"Perhaps I will show them what happens when you defy me," the shah said, staring right at Rob in a clear command to lower his gaze and submit. The gaze made Rob shake with fear, as it always did, but Rob's eye caught the shah's other hand wrapped protectively around his side. He was still in a significant amount of pain, and seemed to be beginning to sweat with fever. The sight emboldened Rob. One way or another, he was getting out of there. 

"No, you won't," Rob replied, speaking slowly and deliberately as to not allow his fear to seap into his voice. He could hide his fear all he wanted, but he was still terrified. The only difference was that he had a way out. The previous day, when Ibn Sina and Mirdin had come inquiring after him, Rob hadn't thought there was any chance of rescue or escape. Now, knowing the shah was going to die, Rob knew he could end it somehow.

"You insolent brat," the shah seethed with murder in his eyes. Rob was helpless to get away as the shah struck him across the face, the leash keeping him in his position. But Rob's grunt of pain was nothing compared to the shah's groan. The ruler doubled over, letting go of Rob's chains and clutching his side. It was side sickness. Rob just knew it.

Guards rushed towards them, pushing the mullahs back a bit. Davout's eyes were throwing daggers at Rob, and he looked as if he were considering grabbing onto Rob's chain as the shah and the guards were distracted. Rob shuffled back just a bit, away from the men, his eyes wide. But Davout couldn't get away with that, and they all knew it. Rob forced himself to relax. One way or another, it would all be over soon.

A few of the guards started pushing the mullahs back more, ordering them out of the throne room.

"This isn't over," Davout said, pointing his finger at Rob. He was talking to Rob more than he was talking to the shah. "Ibn Sina dies at dawn, as do you." The man allowed himself to be forced out, but the contempt and derision in his eyes were something that Rob would never forget, as were the words that were daggers of ice in Rob's heart.

Davout was going to kill Ibn Sina. He was going to execute the most intelligent and enlightened man that Rob had ever met. He was going to execute someone who had nothing to do with what Rob had done, someone who had actively discouraged Rob from doing it. That couldn't happen. Rob couldn't just sit back and wait for the shah to die to have his own freedom while Ibn Sina was going to be killed.

Rob almost threw up when he realized what he would have to do. It was side sickness, and Rob was the only hakim in all of Persia who had even the slightest idea of how to cure it. Maybe he didn't have to barter his body for the shah to save Ibn Sina's life, but he was going to have to save the shah. Surely the shah would agree to save Ibn Sina if Rob agreed to save him. It was difficult to stomach the idea of having to save his own rapist and abuser, but if it meant that Ibn Sina was safe, then Rob would do anything.

He moved to the side as much as the chain would allow, giving the guards more room with the shah, who was still groaning in pain. One of the guards ran, calling out for the palace hakim, but Rob didn't need a second opinion.

"I can save you," Rob said, proud that his voice was strong and steady despite the terror coursing through his veins. The shah turned and looked over at him. His face was pale and gaunt, with sweat dripping down his forehead.

"In that body," the shah started, pointing down the hall after the mullahs. "You saw this?" He pointed towards his own side.

"I can remove it," he said. That wasn't necessarily true. There was an equal chance that Rob would end up killing the shah during the surgery, since surgeries were always full of risk and prone to going badly. But he would play up his abilities as much as he had to in order to save Ibn Sina.

"Then you will," the shah demanded. He pushed himself up slightly straighter.

"I will need help," Rob said. "I need Ibn Sina, and Mirdin, I need him too," he added, almost as an afterthought. He couldn't do the surgery alone, but holding the shah's life in his hands gave him room for a few demands.

The shah nodded, then turned to the guards. "Do whatever it takes to get Ibn Sina from the mullah's dungeons, and bring Mirdin from the madrasa," he ordered. The guards ran immediately to do as their ruler commanded, leaving the shah and Rob alone once again, but this time, Rob wasn't afraid.

"I have one more demand," he said. Rob looked straight into the shah's eyes, being more defiant than the shah ever would have let him had he been at full health. The shah glared, and looked as if he were about to reply, but thought better of it, knowing that Rob, for the first time, was truly in control. He nodded slightly, giving Rob permission to continue. "If I do this, if I save your life, you let me go," Rob said, his voice almost breaking at the end. "I get to walk out of here and I never have to see you again."

The shah glared at him. "Who are you to make such demands about the shah's property?"

"The only one who can save his life," Rob fired back, despite his flinch at the man's words. The shah bristled, but ultimately nodded and opened his hand towards Rob in acquiescence.

"I suppose I can part with a single slave boy," the shah admitted.

Rob's heart caught in his throat. He couldn't know whether or not the shah would keep his word until the surgery was over, but he could practically see his freedom just over the horizon. It was so close. He would never have to let another man use his body as if it weren't even his own ever again. He wouldn't be forced into such degradation and humiliation. Rob would be his own man, free, once again. If Rob had to save the life of his rapist for that, then so be it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay. 2020 keeps bashing me over the head, but hey, oh well. There should only be one more chapter after this, and that should be up this week. I hope you enjoy!

Mirdin wasn't sure he had ever felt so lost. First his closest friend was held as a slave by the shah, then he discovered that Rebecca was pregnant and Rob was the father later that day, then Ibn Sina was arrested the next morning for the desecration of a corpse before they had been able to come up with a plan to free Rob. What was Mirdin supposed to do? How was he supposed to free Rob from the shah's clutches and Ibn Sina from the mullah's dungeons and Rebecca from certain death? He was just one man. How could everything have gone so wrong so quickly?

"Mirdin Askari!"

He jerked up at the call of his name. The shah's guards faced him.

"The shah demands your presence. You will come with us immediately," the lead guard said, leaving no room for argument. It wasn't as if Mirdin had any other ideas anyway.

Mirdin let the guards take him back to the palace, but instead of going to the throne room, the guards led him to a smaller room with a table in the center. From the other side of the room came the shah, supported by his guards. The ruler was clearly in a great amount of pain, but Mirdin found that he didn't care in the slightest. The man deserved to suffer and die for what he'd done to Rob. But, as usual, the shah still held a chain in his hand - a chain that led to Rob, still clad in the clothes of a pleasure slave.

Rob's eyes lit up with relief the moment they met Mirdin's, and he visibly relaxed even further when Ibn Sina appeared at Mirdin's side. Mirdin's own eyes went wide. What was going on?

"The shah has side sickness, and we're going to save him," Rob said, but with his eyes lowered. He turned to the shah, who was being lowered onto the table. "You must release these chains if I am to save your life," he said to the shah, somehow sounding more confident than when he spoke to Mirdin and Ibn Sina.

"But they suit you so well," the shah replied with a sinister smile, though he turned to the nearest guard. "Release the boy. Remove the chains." The guard did as the shah commanded, removing both the gold shackles from Rob's wrists and the elaborate golden collar around his throat, leaving Rob in only the thin aqua linens - which were more scraps of cloth than anything resembling real clothes - that hung off his thin waist. The bruises around his wrists and throat stuck out against his pale skin, fueling Mirdin's hatred towards the shah.

"I must have robes if I am to perform a surgery," Rob demanded, although this time, he sounded less sure of himself. Mirdin would take off his own clothes and give them to Rob if that was required. He wasn't going to let Rob suffer anymore if he could help it.

"And cover up such a beautiful body?" the shah asked, reaching out and grabbing Rob's bruised wrist with one hand while the other tenderly ran fingers along the bare skin of Rob's stomach and side. The boy flinched, beginning to tremble. The shah chuckled, the dark, evil sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. Neither Mirdin nor Ibn Sina had yet dared to speak a word. "Get the boy a clean robe, if he so demands one," he said, before releasing Rob's wrist with a groan of pain. He curled in on himself more, which spurred Rob back into action.

"Please, help me," he said to Mirdin and Ibn Sina. Mirdin wasn't sure if he was asking for help with the surgery, or with the trauma that he'd been forced to endure. "I've seen the cause of the sickness, in that corpse they found, I can remove it, but please, I need your help," he begged, as if he genuinely thought that either Mirdin or Ibn Sina were going to say no. It was a mad idea, but Mirdin wasn't exactly in a position to refuse. All of the necessary instruments had been wheeled in, and the shah's robes were being removed.

"Alright," Mirdin replied, then moved to begin the surgery process. Ibn Sina wordlessly joined him, but the man was looking more at Rob than he was at the surgery elements. The shah laid on his back, his torso exposed for them to work. Most of the guards began to step back to give them all of the room they needed.

Rob limped towards the shah, the anesthetic in hand, but once again, the shah grabbed a hold of his wrist before he could administer the drugs.

"Know that I have made arrangements should you fail," the shah growled, his voice quiet enough to only be heard by the four of them, and his grip tightening as Rob tried to pull away with a small whimper. "Your friends will be killed in front of you, then you will be sold on the street like a common whore. Do you understand?" Rob nodded as Mirdin's blood boiled, but that wasn't good enough for the shah. "Do you understand?" he repeated, clutching the boy's wrist even tighter.

"Yes, Your Majesty, I understand," Rob replied, his voice wavering. The shah finally released his wrist, revealing how it shook. Rob took a deep breath, then placed the inhalants under the shah's nose. The ruler fell into unconsciousness, but Rob kept shaking. Mirdin couldn't do anything to help his friend calm down enough to be able to perform the surgery, but he could con the guards into saving the woman Rob loved.

Mirdin grabbed a hold of one of the closest guard while he could. "There is a woman who will be put to death by the synagogue. The shah demands you save her and bring her to my family."

"But-."

"Do you want to be the one to explain to the shah when he wakes that you didn't do as he ordered simply because you couldn't hear him?" Mirdin asked the man. "That is not an excuse the shah will accept. Now go, save the woman while there's still time." The guard nodded, then ran off, taking several guards with him. Mirdin grinned. At least he'd been successful in one action. He turned back around to Rob and Ibn Sina. The latter had his hands on Rob's shoulders, and the former wasn't shaking anymore.

"You told him you could save him because you believe you can, correct?" Ibn Sina asked him. Rob nodded, albeit shakily. "Then let's save him, and face whatever comes next together."

For just a moment, Rob's hand shook as it held the scalpel above the shah, but as Ibn Sina rested his hand on the boy's shoulder once more, his hand stilled. Rob took a deep breath, and the surgery began.

Mirdin did everything that Rob and Ibn Sina asked of him, from adding more inhalant to keep the shah under, to helping to cut off what looked like a protrusion from the shah's intestine. It was the most nerve-wracking surgery that Mirdin had ever been a part of, and there would likely never come another surgery like it.

Even after the final stitch was placed, and the bandages had been wrapped, Mirdin knew it wasn't over. They had to wait for the shah to wake, and perhaps even wait several days to see if the surgery was successful. If the shah died, it was over for them. Ibn Sina and himself would be killed, and Rob would spend the rest of his life in slavery. Mirdin couldn't think of a worse fate.

The shah began to wake only a few moments later, as they washed the surgical elements. The ruler immediately sat up and swung his legs over the side of the table.

"You must rest if you stand any chance of survival, Son of the State," Rob told him as he limped to the shah's side. He caught himself on the table as he stumbled, taking a heaving breath. Mirdin stepped closer. Was he alright? Rob was shaking once again, but it didn't seem to be from fear this time. His skin, although always paler than everyone else, seemed to have lost all of its color entirely.

"You have done your task," the shah said as he stood with a growl of pain. Blood started appearing through the bandages. "Now death will find me on the battlefield, instead of in bed like a simpering old man." With the assistance of the guards, he began to walk away. The shah turned to look at Rob. "You may leave now, boy, but you will never be free of me. Even as I go to die, in your thoughts I will always remain, always owning you. You will always be mine." The shah turned and left, his dark chuckle once again echoing throughout the chamber.

"I can leave?" Rob breathed out as if he were asking. Ibn Sina was at his side, looking at him carefully in the same way that Mirdin knew he was himself. "It's over?"

"Yes, my boy," Ibn Sina gently said, resting a hand on Rob's shoulder. "The Seljuks are coming, we must leave quickly."

Rob let out a sob as his knees gave out. Ibn Sina caught him before he hit the ground.

"Everything he said, he knew he was going to his death anyway, I didn't have to- he couldn't- he was never-," Rob stuttered. "I didn't have to save him to save you and be free of him," he said in a broken whisper into Ibn Sina's arms. "I would've been free of him anyway, I could've just bargained for you." Rob clutched Ibn Sina's robes as he sobbed. Mirdin stepped around to his other side, blocking Rob from the view of anyone else. He didn't care to think any more on exactly how Rob would've bargained. He didn't care to think any more on all of the threats that must have been levied at Rob by the shah, threats that the boy now knew had always been empty, since the shah would have gone to his death anyway.

"It's alright," Ibn Sina calmly said as he held the sobbing boy in his arms. "He cannot hurt you anymore, but we must leave. The Seljuks will overtake the city, and they will not leave alive any who oppose them." Without making Rob lose his grip on him, Ibn Sina turned and positioned himself to help Rob walk. Mirdin went to his other side, gently taking Rob's other bruised wrist and pulling his arm around his shoulders.

"We've got you," Mirdin said as they began to walk out of the chambers and out of the palace. Rob still limped, and Mirdin hated to think of the reason why. Truly, they needed to get Rob to the hospital, or at least to the madrasa, to be treated, but there wasn't time for that. The Seljuks were coming, and all Jews - and certainly all Christians - were in danger. They needed to get out of Isfahan, but first, they needed to find Mirdin's family. Rebecca should be with them.

They commandeered horses as soon as they left the palace. Screams could already be heard from the city, and smoke filled the sky.

"I will go to the madrasa and salvage everything I can. I will meet you at the east gate of the city," Ibn Sina said as he helped Rob onto a horse. The boy whimpered as he sat down, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain the position caused him. "I know you're in pain, but you must push it aside until we are out of the city. I will take care of you once we are out of danger, I promise." He turned to Mirdin. "Find your family, go to the east gate, and take care of him." At Mirdin's nod, Ibn Sina took off towards the madrasa.

"Rebecca is with my family," Mirdin told Rob. He would wait to tell the boy that he was going to be a father until they were out of immediate danger. Rob had been through so much. He didn't need that on him as well.

Despite the pain that Rob was in, he rode just as quickly as Mirdin towards the synagogue. He helped Mirdin to get everyone out, including Rebecca - Mirdin breathed a sigh of relief that the guards had listened to him, and gotten her to safety.

"Jesse!" she exclaimed, pulling Rob into a crushing hug. He held onto her just as tightly, clearly ignoring his own pain. When she finally pulled away, she looked him up and down. "What is wrong? What happened?" Rob immediately looked away.

"You have much to discuss, but it has to wait," Mirdin interjected on Rob's behalf. She needed to tell him that she was pregnant, and he needed to tell her that his name wasn't actually Jesse, among many other things. Mirdin put a hand on each of their shoulders, and led them back to the horses. They rode back to the east gate, where, just as he said he would be, Ibn Sina was waiting for them. On his horse were several bags, likely containing medical supplies and textbooks.

Ibn Sina looked back towards the burning city with tears in his eyes. His grief was palpable, but as he looked back at Rob, there was a steely determination in his gaze that overtook that grief.

Where were they to go? Everyone was looking at himself and Rob, themselves being the ones that were able to save many of them from the fires and mullahs, but that didn't mean that they knew what to do, or where to go. Looking around, everyone there, with the exception of Rob and Rebecca, was from Isfahan. They were leaving the only home that they had ever known.

Mirdin looked to Ibn Sina. "Where do we go?" he asked the man. Ibn Sina was the wisest of them all, he had to know what should be done. He was looking at Rob.

"We take him home, and we find a home with him," he said, before turning back to Mirdin. He continued, in a lower voice, meant only for Mirdin's ears. "After what he's been through, the best thing for him is to go back to England. Rebecca will follow him, as I know you and myself will. Everyone else will follow us. We can make a home there."

Mirdin nodded. That was as good an idea as any. He turned back to Rob, who was even paler than he was before. He did not look well, even beyond the trauma he had endured.

"Jesse?" Rebecca asked, her voice clearly displaying her concern, but Rob didn't respond. His grip on the horse fell away, and he toppled off the side of the animal, almost taking Rebecca with him. Mirdin launched himself off his own horse towards his friend, motionless on the ground.

"Ibn Sina!" he called out, but the man was already rushing towards them.

"We must get further away," Ibn Sina said. He looked up at Rebecca, who was staring down at Rob with terror in her eyes. "I am sorry, my dear, but you must ride alone. I will take care of the boy, but we must get further away from the city first. He will ride with me, and he will be alright, I promise. Mirdin," he paused, turning to him. "Lead us around the city, away from the Seljuks, and west. We will go over the details at a later time. As of now, all that matters is getting away, and going west. Can you do that?"

"Yes," Mirdin answered with a nod. That was simple enough.

"Good," Ibn Sina replied. "Help me get him up onto my horse. He will ride with me."

Mirdin did as he was asked, and soon enough, Rob was in front of the man on his horse, being entirely supported by Ibn Sina. Rebecca still looked on with fear in her eyes.

"He will be alright, truly," Ibn Sina said, both to Mirdin and Rebecca. "It will take time, and some of his wounds may never truly heal, but he will be alright, I promise you both."

Slowly, Mirdin turned away, and brought his horse to the front of the group. He could lead them away from the Seljuks, content with Ibn Sina's promise. He was going to take care of Rob. Everything was going to be okay.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic really got away from me. When I was planning it, I figured it would be a long one shot. I was very wrong. I hope you all enjoy the conclusion :)

The truth that Ibn Sina had spoken to Rob only a few days earlier was playing in his mind once again. He doubted his calling every morning and every evening, and worked too hard during the day to think about it. Even on horseback, riding away from the only home he'd ever known, holding on to the unconscious boy in front of him, that still rang true. It had to be true. He could not stop to think about his madrasa, about the utter heartbreak and pure devastation and grief that he felt at its destruction. That was his pride and vanity. He couldn't afford to pay it any mind. No, he needed to pay attention to the boy in front of him. Rob needed him. Ibn Sina couldn't let his grief consume him, because Rob needed him. The poor boy had been through so much, had endured such torture, and he needed Ibn Sina to be there for him, to take care of him. Ibn Sina couldn't do his job, his only job that still mattered, if he let himself dwell on his grief. He would allow himself to mourn in the morning and in the evening, but the rest of his time needed to be spent by taking care of Rob. With the help of Mirdin and Rebecca, Ibn Sina was sure that they would be able to help the boy heal. He was certain that he would once again see that happy, enthusiastic, caring boy that he had grown to love.

Mirdin led the group around the city and away from the Seljuk army, heading west. They didn't have the supplies they needed to make it all the way to the sea, but perhaps they could make it to Baghdad, if they were wise and rationed. To Ibn Sina's knowledge, Baghdad had not yet fallen to the Seljuks. Any Jew who wished to stay in Baghdad, likely would be permitted to do so. Otherwise, it would be a good place to gather the necessary provisions for their journey to England. But they wouldn't even arrive there for weeks. They would be spending many nights in the desert on their way.

They took their first respite in the middle of the day, several hours later. Out in the desert, the heat was stifling, and it would be dangerous to continue at their brisk pace - Ibn Sina also needed an excuse to tend to Rob, who was still passed out in front of him, the boy's head resting on Ibn Sina's shoulder. He waited for Mirdin to come back over to him once their caravan had stopped. Ibn Sina didn't trust anyone else to help him take care of Rob. Rebecca still watched, her concern for the father of her unborn child written all over her face. She was an excellent rider, but she hadn't strayed far from Ibn Sina - from Rob - for the duration of their journey thus far.

Once Mirdin arrived next to him, Ibn Sina carefully maneuvered Rob into the older boy's arms.

"Get him in any shade we can muster," Ibn Sina ordered. They had some tents that were being set up, although nothing like they should have had for such a journey. They would be making do with much less than should have. "My dear," he continued, turning to Rebecca. "If you could be so kind as to get the boy some water, that would be much appreciated," he said, asking almost as much because the girl needed something to do as because Rob sorely needed it. She immediately nodded and did as she was told, clearly eager to help the boy she loved.

Being a medical situation, it was easy to procure a tent to take care of Rob in. The shade was essential, especially since Ibn Sina didn't know exactly what was wrong, aside from the obvious trauma he'd endured. Ibn Sina didn't know how much the boy had had to eat or drink since his captivity began, but he could only assume it wasn't much. Even under the best of circumstances, Rob often forgot to eat and drink. It was probably due to growing up in such poverty that he never got quite used to the idea that he had food available to him, coupled with his natural tendency to ignore his own biological needs when he became consumed with his studies. When the boy did eat, and there was food to spare, he was ravenous, devouring everything, as if he might never get the chance to eat again. But it was doubtful that the boy would've had much of an appetite, no matter how hungry he was, as a slave. The poor boy was certainly dehydrated, and his body was weak from the constant abuse it was put under. Ibn Sina couldn't imagine the pain that Rob had to be in.

Mirdin carefully set Rob down on rugs that had been laid out in a tent. They were careful to take up as little room as possible. As many people as possible needed to be able to take shelter from the hottest hours of the desert sun.

"How can we help him?" Mirdin asked, with so little hope in his voice that Ibn Sina's own heart broke a little. He was clearly asking how they could help Rob to recover mentally, since physically, Mirdin was an advanced enough student of medicine to know exactly what to do.

"We do whatever he needs, and pray it is enough," Ibn Sina replied. Anything else he could say would be a lie. There was no way of knowing if there was anything they could do to bring back that carefree boy that they knew and loved.

Ibn Sina looked over Rob, taking in all he could with the boy's thin robes still on. He would not remove any of Rob's clothes until the boy was fully awake and aware, knowing and consenting to his treatment. But Ibn Sina could still see the bruising around Rob's wrists and neck, and he knew they were from those cursed golden chains that the boy had been made to wear. Rob's feet were still bare, and it was a miracle that there wasn't any obvious bruising there.

Regrettably, there wasn't much they could do to help him even physically. Rob wasn't bleeding anymore, although that would be something to watch for in the coming days, and there wasn't anything else from the assaults themselves that Ibn Sina could physically treat. His dehydration and malnutrition were the biggest concerns, but that could be alleviated with general ease. Rob's bruises would heal, and the pain would subside, but it would take time.

Ibn Sina continued to stare down at the boy and the ugly bruises on his fair skin. "What did he do to you?" he asked in a whisper. It was rhetorical, of course. Anyone who had seen Rob in what amounted to essentially nothing more than a loincloth knew exactly what had been done to the boy. Ibn Sina was asking more as a question of why. Why did it have to be Rob? Out of everyone in Isfahan, out of which there would have been hundreds, if not thousands, of willing participants he could have chosen, did the shah have to chose Rob? Why did the shah have to be so cruel to the boy? Anyone who had the pleasure of meeting Rob knew how much he loved others. All the boy wanted to do was help people, and with his effervescent personality, extraordinary talents and gift for medicine, and unending kindness, Rob was going to be the greatest physician that Ibn Sina had ever taught. Now, he could only hope that that was still the case, that the shah hadn't taken that from Rob too.

Only a moment later, Rob came to with a gasp. He immediately shuffled back and threw his hands up as if to protect himself.

"Don't touch me, please, not again," the boy rushed out, his breath coming in quick gasps.

"It's alright," Ibn Sina gently replied, holding out his hands to show that he wasn't a threat, but giving Rob the space he needed. "It's just myself and Mirdin. You're safe now. We're going to take care of you. No one is ever going to touch you again."

Slowly, Rob lowered his hands, and his breathing slowed down to a much more normal rate. He looked between the two of them, and the fear began to fade from his eyes.

"It's over? It's all really over?" he asked, his voice shaking almost imperceptibly.

"Yes, dear boy," Ibn Sina replied. He moved slightly closer to Rob in an attempt to further show him that he was safe. "We're on our way to Baghdad, for now," he said. He would wait to tell Rob that he was taking him all the way back to England. It was better to take it all one step at a time. "The shah can't harm you ever again."

Rob began to nod as his eyes filled with tears. He fell forward, reaching out for Ibn Sina. After the briefest moment of hesitation, Ibn Sina pulled Rob closer to him, taking the boy fully in his arms. Rob tucked his face down into Ibn Sina's chest, as if he were hiding.

"Mirdin, please bring some food and tea for Rob, and find out if Rebecca has been able to find us some water," Ibn Sina requested. He had the feeling that Rob would want the least amount of eyes on him as possible while he broke down.

"Of course," Mirdin immediately replied. Ibn Sina heard the sound of the tent flapping, and knew that Mirdin was doing as he was told. He was just as anxious to help Rob as Ibn Sina was. Of course, the tea that Mirdin was going to bring would have plenty of pain relieving herbs in it. That was truly the only thing they could do to help him, other than to get him hydrated and nourished. Ibn Sina knew that with the amount of abuse he'd received, Rob was likely still in a great amount of pain.

"It's alright, dear boy," Ibn Sina continued, in a low and gentle voice. He held Rob close as the boy sobbed in his arms, and clutched onto his robes as if he would drift away without him. "You're safe now. I'm going to keep you safe. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you again," he whispered. Ibn Sina wasn't sure what came over him, what drove him to say those words to the crying boy in his arms, but he found that he meant them. He loved the boy dearly, and felt that it was his duty to protect him. Ibn Sina had never been a father, but he felt, perhaps, that this was what it was like. He held Rob as gently as he could while still tightly enough that Rob knew he was safe and secure. After another moment of hesitation, Ibn Sina began to card his fingers gently through Rob's hair. After a brief shudder, Rob began to relax further against him, and his tears quieted.

"It hurt so much," Rob said, his voice hoarse from crying - and likely from the screaming he'd been doing the previous days. "He never stopped, he liked it when it hurt me. I wanted to stop screaming and crying, because I knew he liked it, but I couldn't, I just couldn't. It hurt so much, so much more than anything," he said as he began to cry again. Ibn Sina just kept holding him, despite the rage coursing through his veins at what had been done to the boy. He hated hearing about it, but if that was what Rob needed to heal, then Ibn Sina would listen to every single word. "I was so scared, I thought I was never getting out, that I would have to be with him forever, that I would only be his whore for the rest of my life. That's what he told me I would be. He called me such terrible things. I didn't want to be those things, I didn't want to be his whore, his pet, I didn't want it, I didn't want any of it, I didn't-," he broke off with another gasping sob. Rob clutched Ibn Sina even tighter and buried his face even further into his robes.

"Shhhh, it's alright," Ibn Sina gently whispered. "You're alright now. You're none of those things he called you. You will never be treated like that again. You're going to be just fine, dear boy." He gently rocked Rob back and forth in calming motions, whispering more promises and reassurances in his ear. Ibn Sina had never done that before, but he supposed that was what a father did when their son was scared and hurt.

Finally, Rob loosened his grip and began to pull away. "I want it off, I want him off," he said, beginning to tug at the single robe he wore. It had blood from the shah's surgery on it, as well as ash from the burning city. But Ibn Sina knew that it wasn't just the robe that Rob wanted to be rid of. "I can still feel him. I can't get him off," he said in a broken whisper.

Ibn Sina didn't know what to do. There was nothing he could say that could help. There wasn't even anything he could do that would help.

"There's not enough water for a bath, but we can get you new clothes," he offered. It would be another day at least before they reached a river, before Rob was able to wash himself clean of the man who had violated him.

The tent flap opened, revealing Mirdin and Rebecca, carrying food, tea, and water. Mirdin also had a bundle of clothes under his arm.

"I'm glad you're alright," Rebecca said, the relief on her face showing that she was much more than glad, but Rob just nodded, and looked away in shame.

"The tea will help with the pain," Mirdin said, handing Rob the tea first. The boy took it with a muttered thanks, but Ibn Sina took the food, clothes, and water from them.

"Thank you," he said to them in a low voice. "I know you are concerned, but I feel it is best that he is not too crowded at the moment." He hated sending away people who loved him, but it was the best thing for Rob. Rebecca and Mirdin could wait for him to be ready to see them.

Rebecca nodded, though her eyes betrayed her sorrow.

"Of course," Mirdin replied. He wrapped an arm around Rebecca's shoulders and began walking the two of them away. "We won't be far," he insisted, and Rebecca nodded once again. The tent flap feel shut, leaving Ibn Sina and Rob alone.

"Would you like to change?" Ibn Sina asked him. The clothes that Mirdin brought were clean and soft, undergarments and all. Ibn Sina knew that underneath the robe, Rob was still wearing the slave outfit.

Rob nodded. "I may need help," he muttered, his eyes downcast.

"That's quite alright," Ibn Sina quickly replied. As a physician, nothing was awkward for him anymore, especially not something as simple as helping someone to dress. Rob's body was sore and exhausted. It didn't come as a surprise that he needed assistance in lifting the robes on and off him.

As he helped Rob to remove the robe, Ibn Sina got his first full look at the other bruises that decorated his pale skin. There were long ones on his shoulders, front and back, as if someone had used their forearm to hold him down. There were other finger shaped bruises on his arms, where he'd clearly been dragged around, but the worst were the finger shaped bruises on his hips. He knew exactly how Rob had gotten them. Ibn Sina hoped that the boy didn't catch his heavy exhalation in response to them.

While Ibn Sina averted his gaze, Rob managed to change from the slave outfit to the clean undergarments, then with Ibn Sina's help, into the clean robes and leggings. They were light in color and fabric, the best available while traveling in the desert.

"We'll need to find you some shoes," Ibn Sina remarked with a slight grin. Rob broke out into a smile, and Ibn Sina grinned even wider. That was exactly what he wanted to see. He needed the boy to smile again. "Now please, you must drink the water and tea, and eat something. I haven't the feeling that you ate a great deal these past few days."

Rob shook his head. "Only enough to please him," he admitted. The first few bites were difficult to get down, but soon enough Rob's body's needs overtook his mind's fears and had him ravenous, devouring all of the food that Mirdin had been able to scrounge up for him. The water went down just as easily.

"You must drink the tea as well," Ibn Sina insisted. "It will help with the pain."

"I know, but I don't want to go back there," Rob said, slowly bringing his gaze back up to Ibn Sina. "Every time I close my eyes, I'm back there, and I don't- I don't want to go back- I can't-," he broke off, shaking his head as tears filled his eyes once again.

"It's alright," Ibn Sina repeated. "I am right here with you, as are Rebecca and Mirdin, if you let them. We are never going to leave you."

Rob hung his head in shame once again. "Rebecca deserves a man."

"My dear boy, I can assure you, medically speaking, that you are fully male," Ibn Sina protested, although he had a feeling that he knew where the conversation was going.

"But I'm not a man anymore, am I? The shah made me into something else, he forced me into a position not made for a man. How can I be the man that Rebecca needs if that's been done to me?" Rob asked him as the tears began to fall once again.

"You are not what he tried to make you," Ibn Sina insisted. He sat right next to the boy, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. Rob immediately leaned his head against Ibn Sina's chest and shoulder. "You are so much more than what that man did to you. You are the greatest hakim I have ever trained, you are a man of God, you are loved dearly by Mirdin and his family, you are loved so much more than you know by Rebecca, and you are the son that I have never had. Nothing that the shah did changes any of that," he said, his voice emboldened with passion. "When you tell Rebecca the truth about who you are, and about what the shah did, she will love you even more, I promise you."

"How can you be so sure?" Rob asked. His voice was small as his hand crept up and clutched Ibn Sina's robe once again.

"Because anyone who loves you can only ever love you more," Ibn Sina replied. "Now drink some tea. It will help. And when you sleep, I will be here. I am never going to leave you."

Rob let out a small cry and began to clutch Ibn Sina's robes tighter as he buried his face in the man's chest once again. "Yes you will. You're not going back to England, so how can you say that?" His voice sounded angry, but his actions spoke of heartbreak, loss, and fear.

"My dear boy, I am going back to England. Myself, Mirdin and his family, and Rebecca, are all going back to England. I imagine most of us are," he said.

"What?" Rob bolted upright and stared straight into Ibn Sina's eyes. "You're coming with me back to England?" he confirmed. He looked scared to believe it, but the hope in his eyes was something that Ibn Sina never wanted to lose.

"Yes. I'm going to England. I promised you I would never let anyone touch you again. I promised you that I am always going to be there for you. I intend to keep those promises," Ibn Sina said. Rob's eyes filled with tears once more, but this time, they were paired with the biggest smile that Ibn Sina had ever seen. They were happy tears. Rob fell back into Ibn Sina's arms, crying with joy.

"Thank you, thank you," he muttered over and over again, as if having someone love him and care about him that much was a foreign experience for him. Ibn Sina hated to think that it probably was.

With Rob finally assured that Ibn Sina wasn't going to leave him, he finally drank the tea. Ibn Sina could tell when the pain relief started to kick in. Rob became much more relaxed, but also drowsy. He stayed with the boy as he fell asleep, and stayed with him as he fought against a monster in his dreams.

Ibn Sina stayed with the boy as they arrived in Baghdad and prepared to leave for the long journey to England. He stayed with him every step of the way as Rob slowly came back to himself, watching with pride as their group unofficially made Rob a leader. He watched with pride as Rob and Rebecca were officially married onboard the ship on the Mediterranean, and he watched with joy as Rob became excited to be a father. Ibn Sina stayed with him as the baby was born and they finally arrived in England. He was with him as they built a hospital in London, and as the boy and Mirdin showed their talents and passion for helping others.

Ibn Sina stayed with Rob for the rest of his days, just as he promised. He had taken the position of the boy's father, and he didn't take that lightly. He loved the boy and protected him, making sure that his trauma never overpowered his potential. He was a steady presence in Rob's life, and took it upon himself to be a permanent reminder that Rob was never alone. And Ibn Sina took his task very seriously.


End file.
